


Missing

by kukoriri (xuukinishi)



Series: Aurica's Backstory [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 16:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xuukinishi/pseuds/kukoriri
Summary: She felt incomplete.





	Missing

I was born beneath a moonless sky.

Amongst many of the Xaela peoples it is treated as a bad omen to lack either the uplifting gaze of the sun or the affirming sight of the moon on your nameday. It is especially so for the Dotharl—deathless warriors of the Steppe. We are one of the closest to the Dusk Mother, taking residence near her fallen shrine and blessed with an ever-cycling life, so long as we honor her in return with unmatched ferocity in battle.

When I returned to this world, I uttered not a cry. Though, perhaps if I had, I would not feel so burdened by what was left behind.

——

“...blue eyes...not exactly uncommon with our own. But as we all know we do not always carry our appearances to our next life.”

“Who is she, Sadu?” asked my mother, already made uneasy by the ill omen.

Sadu raised her hand above the unblinking babe and brought it down quickly, as if about to strike. She stopped short of contact, letting the softest breeze brush past the child's face, and let it hover above them. The infant stared, expressionless, and reached out. Though they could not quite grasp the offered hand, Sadu grinned all the same.

“A wise one, sure of step. Her bravery is apparent for all to see, though she lacks expression. Ah...I see now.”

She rose to turn to the distraught mother and the rest of the tribe.

“Orika has returned to us!”

A cheer rang out, and Sadu graciously stepped aside to allow those who had known Orika in their past life welcome them once more.

——

They told me I was once a son of the Qalli, and that three lives ago I had earned my place among the Dotharl falling in battle to shield their leader from a beast that had flanked them whilst they engaged a herd.

Once with them, I proved my merit with my spellcraft and made myself quite at home with them, only visiting my former tribe once. I had also met my lover from who I would prove inseperable.

Until now.

Every story my friends and family passed down was centered around my adventures with that person, and left them wondering aloud why they had not followed me into this life. Time and time again, it seemed, we would be reborn together; changing in looks but ever the same at heart and in love. In our more recent life, I was told, we had set out on a journey across the Steppe and into the heart of Yanxia. We had gone unheard from until their blade and my staff were returned by an apologetic merchant. He would not detail how they had come into his possession, only that their owners had left this world. Annoyed but grateful to know this for the next birth in the village, the members of my clan let him on his way. After all, they would soon enough know whether or not our passings had been in earnest combat.

The years went by, and the wonderings of the others ceased. My lover would simply not be joining me, sad as it was. But while their curiousity faded, mine grew beside the ache of the empty spaces in my heart. We were always born with a name, a skill, and a path. Our looks and personalities might shift with each new life, but we would always be born whole and ready to repeat the cycle. And yet...I had none such things.

The staff they insisted I carry felt heavy in my hands, and my spells were sloppy regardless of my efforts. I much more favored the sword, drawing curious glances from those who once knew me, and disapproving sympathy from the more rigid in our ways.

Where once my name had been synonymous with surety, they found a soul much more restless and unable to focus. My instincts seemed at war with each other, and even moderately difficult decisions would render me immobile for a time.

There was some fundamental part of myself missing, and I knew not how to get it back.

Whenever the stream of my thoughts would carry me down this route, I could feel wave after wave of loneliness lapping at my heart, and I would find myself craving company. One day, it seemed to click. I had never once asked the name of this lover they had told me of. The first opportunity I got the attention of our tribe's leader.

“Ah, they were known as Yesun. I met them only once in my youth, so I haven't many stories to tell. But I do recall they were kind.” She uncrossed her arms and gave me a firm clap on the shoulder before leaving. “Perhaps you'll meet another like them in this life.”

_Yesun..._

I sampled the taste of their name and found I favored it. If all said it was so, than surely this too proved that I was meant to find them once more. For if we had always been together, then why should we ever be apart? If they had not returned to this world in the heart of our tribe, then perhaps they were with the Dotharl who wandered farther away from our home.

That day, for the first time in my own memory, I found myself secure in absolute certainty: I would leave these lands and discover the circumstances of our deaths, and perhaps in doing so, find them once more.

 

 


End file.
